


read all about it

by SerpentineJ



Category: Money Game (Korea TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:47:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23291929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerpentineJ/pseuds/SerpentineJ
Summary: “You come up with an idea to fix the economy, if you think you’re all that,” he mutters to himself at his desk at home, scrolling through the main page of the TEK blog. It’s clean and modernist, but not in a way that’s minimalist to the point of being difficult to navigate. The text is sans-serif and appropriately spaced, as though the author has taken pains to ensure the information is as easy to access and digest as possible.Heo Jae hates that he’s noticing these things. He’s almost impressed. The feeling grows as he skims through some of the blog’s other articles. He clicks on one – The Viability of a Korean Tobin Tax – and the clean-cut explanations and enthusiastically enunciated arguments almost make him smile.Almost.
Relationships: Heo Jae/Chae Yihyun
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	read all about it

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: ive fully gone off the rails from canon heochae into meetcute heochae .. on god i am delusional
> 
> if youre curious the theme song for this fic is miyashita yuu’s cover of bitter choco decoration T-T

“Did you see the news?” Kim Sungjin says on the phone at some ungodly hour in the morning. Heo Jae rolls over in bed, eyes still squeezed shut.

His bedroom is completely dark. The sun hasn’t even had the thought of rising. Sungjin is a monster.

“No,” Heo Jae mumbles, “considering you just woke me up at...” He takes his phone from his face and groans. “Six in the morning.”

“I thought you would be awake.” Sungjin says, sounding unrepentant. “Six isn’t even that early. You’ve always tried to be a morning person.”

“I was up late. Dealing with some shitshow with my American reporting team after the DOW dropped a thousand in a day.” He mumbles. “What’s the news?”

“You know that economics blog?” Sungjin says.

“No.” Heo Jae says. “I’m busy. I don’t have time to read every blog on the planet.”

“No, the famous one,” Sungjin presses, much too energetic for what time it is. Blue House employees are something else. “Transformational Economics of Korea.”

Heo Jae frowns. He actually does remember hearing the name. Bloggers still haven’t reached the point of fame where they can be referenced in official government briefings like news outlets can, but TEK is one of the more infamous ones, polarizing in its critique of Chae Byunghak’s free-market ideals and commanding a sizable following of reputable but unconventional economists.

“What happened?” He says.

“The author posted a rebuttal to your editor’s opinion piece from the other day.” Sungjin says, lowering his voice for dramatic effect. Or maybe because he’s gossiping on the phone in the office like a teenager instead of doing important Blue House work. “The tabloids and the web reporters got ahold of it. It’s only been up for an hour, but it’s picking up steam. You know this is the time most economists open their daily news feed.”

“Are people reporting on that?” Heo Jae scoffs, sitting up in bed. His hair is rumpled and the sleeve of his sleep shirt is caught awkwardly around his elbow. “I’m jealous. It must be a slow news day.”

“No, you should read it.” Sungjin says. “I laughed.”

“Of course you did.” Heo Jae grumbles. He puts his slippers on nonetheless and shuffles to his office, where his laptop is. “You laugh every time something comes out against me.”

His computer whirs to life. The screen nearly blinds him after so much time in the darkness. He turns on his reading lamp, feeling like he’s pulling another all-nighter even though he’s just woken up, and lets his eyes adjust to the newly-lit room, leaning back in his chair with a sigh.

“You know, I thought you and the TEK author would actually get along.” Sungmin continues, because he likes to hear himself talk. “You agree on a lot of things. But this article is absolutely brutal.”

“Brutal?” Heo Jae scoffs. “I highly doubt that.”

He finds an article about it with a source link. Some trashy economics tabloid that advertises things like “billionaires follow these 5 money tips!” in the margins. His voice trails off as he skims through the post.

“He’s saying I’m an extremist?” Heo Jae says incredulously. “Calling me Chae Byunghak’s... polar opposite in practice but indubitable equal in the scope of my delusion? Who is this guy?”

“He’s a blogger,” Sungmin says. Heo Jae can hear his shrug over the phone line. “These guys have no fear. I don’t think he’s saying you’re totally like that, though. I think it’s more a critique of how you were saying sometimes it’s necessary for the government to heavily incentivize foreign corporations to bid on Korean banking institutions, and get Wall Street involved in Korean economics.”

“Well, he didn’t have to say it like that.” Heo Jae grumbles, unable to tear his eyes from the page. “These bloggers don’t even have the guts to show their face next to the things they write. If he were ready to back up his claims, he wouldn’t be anonymous.”

“Say that all you want, but I don’t think this is going away anytime soon.” Sungmin chuckles. “My friend at the Korea Times said they already started drafting their reaction to the two pieces. They’re calling it a debate between the moderates and the fringe.”

“Debate, my ass.” Heo Jae says, reaching the end of the article and shutting his laptop. He leans back in his chair with a huff. “It’ll all blow over as the news day gets on, anyways.”

\--

It doesn’t blow over.

Heo Jae’s inbox is filled with interview requests. Any other time, he wouldn’t mind – he might even be discreetly preening from the attention – but every single one mentions the Transformational Economics of Korea. That damned blog. Heo Jae has had enough of it.

“Will these people give it a rest!” He exclaims, seemingly 5 seconds and 1 bad decision from lighting his letterbox on fire. His secretary, who’s used to him, inclines her head and clears away the papers. She takes them back to her desk to sort through them again, this time discarding all the interview requests. He paces next to his desk, trying to work off some of his irritated energy. It’s barely noon. The thin winter sunlight streams through his office windows, making his pale documents glow.

“You shouldn’t raise your voice.” Assemblyman Bae says, his greying paunch sat comfortably in Heo Jae’s armchair, a smug look on his face. Heo Jae hates him. “It’s bad for workplace morale.”

“Shut up.” Heo Jae says. He points a finger at him. “I hate you. Your face is bad for workplace morale.”

They’ve had an odd kind of hate-hate relationship since high school. Bae is everything that Heo Jae despises in a politician – staunch, complacent, money-grubbing and adverse to change – and Bae hates that Heo Jae is the more popular public figure from their home district in the economic world.

Heo Jae takes a deep breath. He counts to ten to lower his blood pressure. He’s not young anymore – blowing his top at every little thing could really send him to the hospital.

“Why are you even here?” Heo Jae exhales like a sigh, after a minute. He opens his eyes. Unfortunately, Assemblyman Bae is still sitting in his office.

“I was in the area.” Bae says, grinning.

“No you fucking were not.” Heo Jae says, walking back behind his desk and taking a seat, trying not to make his exasperation clear in every single one of his movements. He knows he’s failed when his chair groans with stress. “You came here to watch me stress out over this. I hate your guts. Please leave.”

After a little cajoling and many more insults, Bae eventually leaves – “not because you told me to, but I have a meeting” – and Heo Jae revels in his newly attained silence. He sighs, sinking back into his desk chair, leaning his head against the headrest.

\--

_Excerpt from post #1938 on Transformational Economics of Korea: A Rebuttal to Editor-in-Chief Heo Jae’s Editorial, “The Failure of the Free Market”_

_While reading the Korea Tribune’s Editor-in-Chief’s most recent editorial, titled “The Failure of the Free Market”, published last Wednesday, the only thing I could think was that I was glad such an egocentric man never made his way into government._

_For enabling me to such an opinion, I was glad of his writing the piece. The rare occurance of an editor-in-chief personally penning an article, especially an editor as established as Mr. Heo, is a great thing because it gives the people, as consumers, the chance to analyze for themselves the lens through which their news is being presented._

_Editor Heo’s lens is undoubtedly one of an extremist. I would not hesitate to call him, at least as he presents himself in this latest editorial, Professor Chae Byunghak’s polar opposite in practice but indubitable equal in the scope of his delusion. Where Professor Chae is overly idealistic in his hopes for the free-market, Editor Heo is almost foolish in his belief that the Korean government has the ability to control foreign investors of the magnitude of power that is Wall Street, and that the reward for doing so is worth the risk not only to the country, but to the economy that supports the people. Such a decision would introduce an almost unfathomably large amount of speculative capital to the Korean investment landscape._

_Editor Heo’s prose belies an odd combination of feelings of detached admiration and intellectual superiority towards the citizens of Korea, upon whose hard work that speculative capital would be profiting. He claims that it would be for their sake, but condescends upon them to the point of entertaining the idea of withholding information from the common citizen. Such an attitude is concerning at best for someone like an editor, who represents the free and unbiased dissemination of information..._

\--

Heo Jae can’t stop thinking about it.

It’s not only the, frankly, ridiculous attention the rebuttal had gotten. It’s the fact that the TEK author can’t seem to decide what side he’s on. Chae Byunghak’s or Heo Jae’s? Heo Jae reads the article through three times that night, so focused his eyes start to blur behind his reading glasses.

“You come up with an idea to fix the economy, if you think you’re all that,” he mutters to himself at his desk at home, scrolling through the main page of the TEK blog. It’s clean and modernist, but not in a way that’s minimalist to the point of being difficult to navigate. The text is sans-serif and appropriately spaced, as though the author has taken pains to ensure the information is as easy to access and digest as possible.

Heo Jae hates that he’s noticing these things. He’s almost impressed. The feeling grows as he skims through some of the blog’s other articles. He clicks on one – The Viability of a Korean Tobin Tax – and the clean-cut explanations and enthusiastically enunciated arguments almost make him smile.

Almost.

His mission isn’t to fall in love with the guy, though. It’s to craft a scathing rebuke, and after a few hours of reading the blog’s posts extensively, he opens a new word processing document on his laptop, flexing his wrists and preparing to obliterate this wishy centrist’s well-crafted positions. 

He doesn’t get to write as much anymore, now that he’s editor-in-chief. Most of his time is spent wrangling unruly journalists and power-drunk young editors into the company line. He’s almost enjoying this.

\--

_Excerpt from the Korea Tribune: A Response to Transformational Economics of Korea: The Center is Where Opinions Go To Die_

_The esteemed Transformational Economics of Korea’s rebuttal to my previous editorial has apparently become a nationwide sensation. I cannot say I was expecting it, but the TEK’s arguments leave too many openings to be denied a reply._

_The main grift with the TEK, not only in their specific response to my article but in the site’s content in general, is a lack of specific direction. It is all well and good to criticize my conviction, and that of Professor Chae Byunghak (on which I personally agree with you), but a world’s worth of deriding others’ overzealous arguments is meaningless in the face of one original, passionate idea. To the author of the TEK, I would say – where is your idea?_

_Aside from that, the anonymous author’s lack of faith in the Korean government’s ability to control Wall Street investors is a sure sign of a mind hesitant towards change. The greater the risk, the greater the reward..._

\--

“Heo Jae,” Kim Sungjin says, the day after his reply goes out, “did you hear the news?”

“What.” Heo Jae says, between bites of soup. It’s his first meal of the day. The sky is indigo outside – twinkling stars, bright against the inky blackness, would appear if there weren’t so much pollution. As it is, rings of murky beige light glow around the streetlamps where the fine dust catches their illumination, like floodlights in murky water. “This had better not be about that stupid blog-“

“No, it’s not that.” Sungjin says. He bites into a piece of pickled radish with a crunch, waving his chopsticks. “It’s industry news. Apparently Chae Byunghak’s son has been an economics professor all this time.”

Heo Jae looks up, eyebrows raised.

“An economics professor?” He says. “Why did they keep it quiet? I barely even knew he had a son.”

“I don’t know, but apparently someone in the industry saw them spending the holidays together and recognized him from his lectures,” Sungjin says, shrugging. “And they have the same last name, and the age difference is about right, so...”

“So they assumed he’s the guy’s son?” Heo Jae scoffs. “He could be his nephew, or something.”

“You know Professor Chae – well, the elder – doesn’t have any other family.” Sungjin chastises him. “The kid’s name is Yihyun. Chae Yihyun.”

“Chae Yihyun,” Heo Jae says, rolling the name around his tongue, wondering if he can make a news story out of this or if that would be below his paper’s dignity. He usually doesn’t make a habit of speculating on people’s personal affairs. That’s what the tabloids do. “Not very smart, is he. Should’ve used his father’s name to get a leg up in the industry.”

“Isn’t that what you’re always complaining about?” Sungjin says, poking at the tofu in his soup with his spoon. “Talentless young hacks using family connections to get ahead.”

Heo Jae snorts a laugh.

“True,” he says, and doesn’t think anything more of Chae Yihyun for the rest of the night.

\--

“It’s been a while, Professor Chae,” Heo Jae says, a fake smile plastered across his face.

“It has, Heo Jae,” Chae Byunghak replies, shaking his hand. His smile lines are as deep as ever. Heo Jae finds himself remembering why he hates that wizened, placating expression – it masks the personality of a condescending, highly elitist old man. 

But if Chae Byunghak invites you to dinner, you don’t refuse. He has too many friends in their industry. Heo Jae feels out of place, one editor among a dozen economists, but he knows he can hold his own in a debate against any one of them.

He mills about the room, ears swiveling this way and that, picking up bits of interesting information – what the MOEF is planning, how things at the FSC are looking up. 

Someone approaches him from the side.

Heo Jae barely registers his presence, so focused on taking in the room at large that the man’s quiet footfalls go almost unnoticed. He walks quietly and speaks even less. It’s strange how he can take up so little space with his broad-shouldered frame.

He looks around – the man has already turned to face the crowd, physically close but facing away from him. Heo Jae frowns. It’s not someone he recognizes. He’s younger than most of the people here, who are mostly between Byunghak and Heo Jae’s age range. His hair doesn’t have a speck of gray in it.

“Ah,” Byunghak says, appearing out of nowhere, clapping Heo Jae on the shoulder much to his discomfort. “Heo Jae, I don’t believe you’ve met.”

Chae Yihyun turns around.

“Nice to meet you.” Yihyun says inclining his head. Heo Jae is surprised. He doesn’t resemble his father. He’s taller, and his features are more handsome than he remembers the Professor’s ever being. Most of all, his expression is completely different – where Chae Byunghak revels in having a room full of his adoring supporters, here to hang onto his every word, Chae Yihyun looks almost conflicted.

Heo Jae extends his hand.

“Nice to meet you, too,” he mirrors. “Heo Jae, Editor-in-Chief at the Korea Tribune.”

“I’ve heard,” Yihyun murmurs, taking his hand. His handshake is unexpectedly firm, suiting his straight-backed frame but contrasting his soft-spoken demeanor. “Chae Yihyun.”

“Professor Chae’s son,” Heo Jae says, which is apparently the wrong thing to say, because an odd smile that doesn’t quite look like a smile flickers across Yihyun’s face. He drops Heo Jae’s hand. Heo Jae looks at him. “Or, I heard you’re also a professor. I should be calling you Professor Chae, then.”

“My name is fine.” Yihyun says, his face smoothing out again, except for the trench of a furrow between his brows. As though he spends a lot of time frowning. A polite smile wipes away the vestiges of that strange, at-odds expression from earlier – Heo Jae gives him an intrigued look, but lets it go, not wanting to show weakness to someone who’s undoubtedly going to report his every word back to his father after the night ends. “Professor Chae is my father.”

“That, I’m aware of,” Heo Jae deadpans.

Byunghak laughs at him. He pats Heo Jae’s shoulder again. It feels like he’s dropping a heavy weight on the place where his hand makes contact, forcing Heo Jae to slouch into submission. 

“Heo Jae took my classes because he wanted to do economic journalism,” Byunghak says, smiling, talking down to Heo Jae like he always does, like Heo Jae has always hated. “He fought every single idea I tried to bring into the classroom.”

“Because we have a fundamental disagreement about how to approach the economy, Professor.” Heo Jae says, tone polite enough, with a fake note of cheer injected into his voice. This is the Chae household, after all. He’s not rude enough to disrespect the man in his own home, in front of his son – at least, not until he’s gotten a drink or two into him. “I’m only pressured to accept your invitations every time you happen to remember me.”

“Oh, don’t be like that.” Byunghak says. “I knew you would do something interesting in your time, even if your theories were unrealistic garbage.”

Yihyun watches them with a quiet look on his face. Heo Jae barely notices him.

The dinner goes well enough – some of the guests in attendance welcome Heo Jae, being acquaintances or people he happens to have dealt with or done favors for, and the others go out of their way to avoid him. A dinner for economists is supposed to be for like-minded people in the industry to talk without holding back, they mutter, cutting off their conversations when he gets close. What was Professor Chae thinking, inviting a government-interventionist? And a reporter at that?

As digestifs are served, Heo Jae excuses himself. The Chae house is expansive – he moves to a secluded side room that he remembers from the few times he had been here during his university days. The floor-to-ceiling glass wall looks out into the forest, the deep green leaves of the trees swallowed by endless night.

The housekeeper comes in to fetch something. He smiles and thanks her for the food. She laughs and brushes it off, patting him on the elbow – he’s always done well with the motherly older-lady type.

The whiskey burns as he swallows it. It’s a good thing that he took a cab here. Everybody in the house is drinking.

“Would you like a cracker?” Yihyun says, quietly, from beside him. Heo Jae jumps.

“You scared me,” he says, speaking casually, forgetting himself for a moment. Yihyun is holding a small plate of snacks from the main room. He almost looks amused. Begrudgingly, he takes a cracker from his plate, feeling it flake between his teeth as he bites down. It tastes expensive. Sugar and salt and butter coat his tongue.

“Sorry,” Yihyun says, eating a grape. “I was wondering why you came out here.”

“I’m giving the economists some time to talk without me hovering over their shoulder like the Grim Reaper,” Heo Jae says, dusting off his fingers and taking another sip of his drink. “The higher up you go, the less comfortable you are with a journalist in the room, listening to your every word.”

Yihyun smiles. It’s a nice smile. Up until now, the Chae Yihyun in Heo Jae’s mind had just been another extension of Chae Byunghak, but now he’s real. He has a face of his own. Even if Heo Jae doesn’t know what the other man is thinking, the two concepts have already begun to diverge in his brain.

“Why are you here, instead of in the main room?” Heo Jae asks, his obnoxious crystal tumbler heavy in his hand, the taste of butter lingering on his tongue. “You’re Professor Chae’s son. Shouldn’t you be making the most of your connections?”

There’s that strange smile again. It pulls at one side of Yihyun’s mouth, appearing with a puff of air that could be mistaken for anger if it weren’t accompanied by that quirk of his lips. Heo Jae’s still not sure it isn’t anger. 

“You mean, riding the coattails of my father’s name for the rest of my career?” He says, suddenly still and deliberate in his movements, more dangerous and oddly more intriguing than he had been only a moment ago. He doesn’t meet Heo Jae’s eyes, and then he does. “I’m afraid I don’t have any intention of doing that.”

Chae Yihyun, Heo Jae decides, is much more interesting than his father.

\--

Heo Jae doesn’t see Yihyun for a bit. After a few days, the memory fades into the back of his mind, lurking in the depths of his psyche – the golden glow of the other man’s eyes in the dim lighting, the shadows cast against the full lines of his face. Something interesting but ultimately abstract.

The TEK author, however, returns.

“Did you see it?” Heo Jae exclaims on the phone to Sungjin, his eyes fixed on his computer screen. “Don’t you think he’s trying to make a fool of me?”

“I don’t think so,” Sungjin grumbles. “You went from not wanting to hear about this blogger thing to following every post obsessively, waiting for a reply. You’re like a lovesick old man. What’s wrong with you?”

“Shut up.” Heo Jae says distractedly, Sungjin’s words slipping in through one ear and straight back out the other, with his bad habit of completely ignoring the people around him when something’s caught his interest. “Does he think he can just say that to an editor-in-chief? I’m going to destroy him.”

“What did he call you?” Sungjin yawns.

“An unrepentant egotist who could bring about the demise of the Korean Won as easily as Chae Byunghak with my heavy-handed methods,” Heo Jae says, already formulating a response in his head. 

Sungjin snorts.

“Well, at least he’s funny.” He says. “Why not scout him for your paper?”

“As if.” Heo Jae scoffs. “My paper has no need for cowards who can only write behind an anonymous web handle.”

\--

Heo Jae is a liar. He’s also not someone who’s good at holding himself back from something that interests him.

\--

_**To: admin@tek.co.kr  
From: heoj@koreatribune.com  
Subject: A Private Counter-Proposition** _

_To the Author of the Transformational Economics of Korea:_

_I read your reply to my latest editorial. I also read, between the lines, your lack of a response to my criticism on your lack of development of original ideas. Did it hit too close to home?_

_However, I cannot be considered innocent of leaving out certain details in my analysis of your articles. Despite your argumentative nature and lack of a concrete, original stance, your prose is bearable and your criticisms are engaging._

_As it happens, the paper has an open position for a weekly guest columnist. With the combination of your blog’s reputation in economic circles, and our company’s national and international influence, this could be an advancement for the both of us._

_I will warn you, I am not an easy editor to please._

_Awaiting your response,  
Heo Jae  
Editor-in-Chief, Korea Tribune_

\--

Three days pass. Heo Jae wonders if the TEK gets a lot of emails. There haven’t been any new posts either. He considers writing and publishing another response. The blog doesn’t have any other contact information posted, and it has taken Heo Jae all of his gumption to swallow his pride once and reach out, instead of retreating behind barbed words and sniping editorial comments.   
He’s having a drink in a bar he frequents once in a while. The bartop is real oak, a single piece cut from a grand old tree, varnished and polished until its warm wood gleams invitingly under the dim, warm lights. The lampshades are black and the bartender is silent. Like he prefers it.

Someone takes a seat next to him.

“Whiskey, please.” Chae Yihyun’s voice says, quietly slipping through the sound waves of the low music from the corner of the bar.   
Heo Jae looks around. He tries not to let his surprise show on his face.

“Professor Chae,” he says, setting down his glass. 

“Hello.” Yihyun says, inclining his head. 

“I’ve never seen you here before.” Heo Jae says, turning his head to look at him. Yihyun’s handsome face catches the ambient lighting of the bar well. Already feeling the buzz of the alcohol in his blood, Heo Jae is distracted for a moment by the golden planes of his jawline.

“I’ve never been. I happened to be in the area.” Yihyun says, nodding at the bartender when he slides a glass over the bartop to him, the faceted crystal sparkling in the dim light. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I wouldn’t think so. I mostly come here alone.” Heo Jae says, taking another sip, pulling his attention back to the bartop. Despite Yihyun being the son of the professor he hates, he can’t help wanting to get to know him a little better. Yihyun’s gaze is layered and complex, strangely unreadable to Heo Jae’s experienced eye. “What brings you here by yourself?”

Yihyun shrugs.

“I was conflicted about something.” He says.

Heo Jae looks at him. 

“Something with work?” He says. “Or your father?” The alcohol makes his control a little harder to come by than usual. Normally, he wouldn’t indulge this much with someone around, unless he were ready to give them the bashing of a lifetime.

Yihyun smiles. It’s like the burst of orange zest in a Manhattan – oddly refreshing but hiding a bitter undertone.

“A bit of both.” He says, raising his glass to his mouth, drinking slowly. Even his black blazer in the dim lighting can’t hide the handsome cut of his shoulders. Heo Jae turns back to the bar, swirling his drink between his fingers.

The ice clinks against the inside of his glass. The bright sound spreads through the air like light scattering from a crystal.

“Do you think,” Yihyun says suddenly, “it’s better to keep a secret from someone, and hurt them later, or tell them in the beginning?”

Heo Jae glances at him.

“That’s an odd question.” He says. 

“I figured,” Yihyun says, eyes fixed on the tabletop. “But which is it?”

“If it’s something that makes you ask a question like that,” Heo Jae says, because he’s never been a particularly good person, “then it must be worth keeping secret.”

Yihyun, after a moment, smiles. The corner of his mouth twitches with almost sarcastic charm. A quiet breath slips from between his lips, a laugh disguised as an exhale, as though Heo Jae has confirmed something for him that he doesn’t understand. Heo Jae watches him curiously.

“That’s a good answer.” Yihyun says, setting his glass down, his lips curved in an expression that’s neither happy nor sad. He slips his wallet out of his pocket and pulls out a bill to settle his tab. The way his eyes drag through the air before flicking upwards to meet Heo Jae’s is oddly engaging. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you for the advice. And the company.”

“Of course,” Heo Jae says, as Yihyun nods and walks past him. Heo Jae turns his head slightly to watch him walk out the door from the corner of his eye.

All in all, a cryptic exchange.

\--

“Did you hear?” Sungjin says, in the middle of the work day. Heo Jae is busy fielding a dozen different issues at once. He types out an email while holding his phone pressed against his ear with his shoulder. The papers stacked on his desk are more messy than usual, their clean-cut lines disturbed by the bustle.

“If it’s something stupid, I’m hanging up.” Heo Jae says distractedly.

“I thought you’d want to be the first to know.” Sungjin says, like the gossip fiend he is. “It’s about the TEK author.”

Heo Jae pauses in his typing.

“The TEK author?” He asks, hating how his hand comes up to grab the phone and press it more firmly to his ear. “What happened?”

“He got outed,” Sungjin says.

“Who is it?” Heo Jae says immediately.

“Well, you won’t believe this,” Sungjin says, with a creaking noise like he’s leaning forward in his chair. “Apparently he got into a fight with Chae Byunghak, but Professor Chae has known his identity the entire time –“

“Sungjin, just tell me,” Heo Jae says, wishing he could reach through the phone line and strangle him. “Or I’m going to strangle you.”

“Alright, you crazy...” Sungjin sighs. “It’s Chae Yihyun. Chae Byunghak’s son.”

The words take a moment to soak into his brain.

Heo Jae’s world tilts, dizzy, on its axis. Like the floor has become the ceiling under his feet in an instant. He stares into space for a moment, the sunlight on the black sofa cushions of his office seeming like a technicolor dream.

“Chae Yihyun?” He says, his senses snapping back to reality in a split second. “That can’t be right.”

“No, it’s him,” Sungjin says. “Didn’t you say you met him? At one of the Professor’s dinner parties?”

“I did.” Heo Jae says, distracted, omitting all of the details. He blinks. Yihyun’s face flashes through his mind – the TEK author’s quiet but cutting words start to sound like Yihyun’s voice. The two concepts begin to converge in his brain. “You’re sure about this?”

“Of course I am.” Sungjin scoffs. “I know even more than that. Apparently, Chae the younger has been keeping his thoughts a secret to not embarrass his father, or risk being connected to him, but you know Professor Chae hates cowards more than anything else.”

“Uh-huh,” Heo Jae says.

“So they got into a fight, and Professor Chae ended up telling him that he knew everything.” Sungjin says, sounding like he’s laughing. “Can you imagine the shock? But I assume they’ve worked it out, because it doesn’t seem like the TEK author’s stopped posting. He uploaded a new one today.”

“A new article?” Heo Jae says, his head swimming with the news and Yihyun’s cryptic words from the bar. 

“It’s nothing personal. It’s about your newspaper, actually. He’s endorsing one of your newbies’ newest articles. Lee Hyejoon’s piece about the latest discourse on the currency exchange between Korea and the European Union.” Sungjin says.

Heo Jae remembers the piece. Reporter Lee had written it well. It’s the furthest thing from his mind. 

“I’ll call you back,” he says, opening a new tab on his laptop, intent on reading everything he can find about Chae Yihyun. 

It turns out it’s not much. A thoroughly normal career in university, moving into academia. He hadn’t attended Professor Chae’s elite college of choice, and doesn’t teach there, either. He lectures a rotation of classes for second and third-year economics students while writing the occasional paper on his topic of choice. 

Heo Jae skims some of his essays. They’re much less outspoken in opinion, but the TEK author’s quiet, steady logic is there, slipping through the words like a golden thread. Now that he’s looking for it, things begin to click into place.

\--

At the annual Korean Economics Association conference, only days later, Heo Jae’s first glance of Yihyun is from across the room.

“Sir?” Lee Hyejoon, at his side, glances at him, following his step attentively as he stops in place. “Is something the matter?”

“It’s nothing.” He says, pulling his gaze away, so fast that someone watching could claim he hasn’t even looked at all. “I just saw someone I recognized.”

Hyejoon doesn’t comment. It’s one thing he likes about her – even if she thinks something is odd, she won’t say anything unless it affects their work. At the same time, she’s perceptive and obsessed with her job. It’s not a disagreeable personality for an editor’s position, although she’s only a correspondent at the moment, he thinks vaguely.

It’s only been a day since Heo Jae has learned the TEK author’s true identity. If he hadn’t been connected to Sungjin, who has an uncanny knack for picking up rare information, he wouldn’t have known at all. 

“Good to see you again,” Heo Jae says, coming up behind Yihyun, after half an hour of slowly working his way through the room in his direction. Yihyun turns. He doesn’t seem surprised to see Heo Jae, but he doesn’t look like he’s been expecting it, either.

“Editor Heo.” Yihyun says, inclining his head. “I hope you’re doing well.”

His gaze flits, barely, to Hyejoon. Heo Jae gestures at her.

“She’s one of the correspondents at our paper.” Heo Jae says, smiling. 

They introduce themselves.

“I read your piece about the currency exchange.” Yihyun says, a warm smile breaking out on his face. It’s more genuine, in an odd kind of way, than the way he smiles at the other people in attendance. Doubtless this kind of conference is full of people trying to make a connection with him after being publicly outed as Chae Byunghak’s son. “I enjoyed it.”

Hyejoon’s pale face flushes slightly at the praise. As mature and jaded as she seems, she’s only barely 25, Heo Jae thinks fondly. It doesn’t look good for him to show too much favoritism among the writers, but he’s already specifically asked Hyejoon to accompany him to this conference instead of one of his other editors. A little more won’t do any harm.

“It was a good piece.” Heo Jae says. “And I’m a difficult editor to impress.”

He intentionally keeps his gaze on Hyejoon and away from Yihyun. Nevertheless, he sees Yihyun’s attention track from Hyejoon to himself from the corner of his eye, and represses a smile.

Chae Yihyun has had the upper hand for a while. Heo Jae takes no small pleasure in reclaiming it.

“I read some of your published essays, Professor Chae.” Heo Jae says, with a professional air, letting the corners of his lips curl just slightly. He looks back towards Yihyun. “I found myself begrudgingly impressed. Have you ever thought about a career in journalism?”

“I’m sure the realms of academic writing and editorial journalism are very far apart.” Yihyun replies, a short laugh bubbling from his chest. It would be self-depricating if it didn’t have an undertone of rebellion. “Though I’m flattered to receive such a compliment from Editor Heo.”

Hyejoon watches them. Heo Jae hopes he’s not giving too much away, as caught up in their odd relationship as he is.

\--

_**To: admin@tek.co.kr  
From: heo.jae@naver.com  
Subject: Regarding Our Correspondence** _

_To the Author of the Transformational Economics of Korea:_

_I enjoyed talking with you at the Korea Economics Association conference._

_It has been a slight surprise to learn that you are rather closer than I’d expected during our communications._

_I find myself wondering about the question you asked me, and the advice I gave you. I’d like to revise my answer, if possible. For all that I’ve preached about risk-taking in my editorials, it seems I’ve recommended you an uncharacteristically cowardly action._

_I would like to discuss the matter further with you, if possible._

_In terms of restaurants, I favor the private rooms on the first floor of the Namsan Hotel._

_From,  
Heo Jae_

\--

**_To: heo.jae@naver.com  
From: admin@tek.co.kr  
Subject: RE:Regarding Our Correspondence_ ** __

_Editor Heo,_

_I am curious about the revision to your advice._

_Sincerely,  
Transformational Economics of Korea_

\--

Heo Jae is early to the Namsan Hotel.

He’s early, but for the sake of his pride he sits in streetside parking for a good ten minutes. The car engine rumbles quietly under his fingers. The sky is already pitch-black. They had agreed on a fairly late time. It’s not because Heo Jae has a full schedule, but wants to see Yihyun as soon as possible, even if it means idling outside a hotel at 9 at night.

That kind of thought is dangerous. He doesn’t even know what kind of situation he’s walking into, after all.

The Namsan Hotel is elegant and warmly lit. A firmly European lobby is betrayed by hints of Asian-style lighting in the restaurant area. The walls and floor are splashed with shades of cream, and crimson, and burgundy so deep that it makes Heo Jae think of a wine so red it’s almost black.

Heo Jae steps into the room. Yihyun is waiting for him.

“It’s you, isn’t it.” Heo Jae says, his steps slowing as he nears the table, a smile he can’t hold back rising to his face.

Yihyun looks up at him. His eyes have the politeness of the Chae Yihyun that Heo Jae has known up until now, and the sharp depth of the TEK author, and the slight humor of possibly the only person who’s ever played Heo Jae this thoroughly.

“I apologize.” Yihyun says, an answering smile ticking its way irresistably to his mouth. “I never meant to keep anything from you.”

“And yet you’re laughing at me.” Heo Jae says, taking a seat, leaning slightly over the table. The warm lamplight casts Yihyun’s handsome face into striking shadow. “You never answered my mail.”

“I was conflicted.” Yihyun replies, honestly, his lips curling ruefully. “I still don’t know what to do.”

The waiter comes. He hands them each a menu – Heo Jae has come here enough that he knows what the seasonal course meal is, and he barely even glances over the words. The cream-colored paper is thick and heavy between his fingers.

“Consider my offer.” Heo Jae says, as the first course is served. “The Korea Tribune is a reputable paper, you know. An open columnist position won’t be open forever.”

“Are you bargaining with me?” Yihyun says, his spoon resting quietly on the rim of his bowl, an odd, charmed quirk to one side of his mouth. 

“I’m only saying what’s true.” Heo Jae says, shrugging, leaning back in his seat, his gaze not breaking from Yihyun’s. “I’d like to work with you.”

“Then let me ask another question.” Yihyun continues, abandoning his spoon completely. He’s surprisingly blunt when it comes to it. It excites Heo Jae, the heavy feeling of adrenaline swirling through his blood like gold powder through clear water. “Are you using me to prove that my father is wrong?”

Heo Jae laughs. He can’t help it.

“If Chae Byunghak knew I was making a move on his son,” he says, his humor and strange desire spilling out towards Yihyun in front of him, the feelings sweeping him forward, towards him, “I think he would have me excommunicated from the industry. If not worse.”

Yihyun smiles.

“That depends on what kind of move it is,” he says, and the second course arrives.

\--

“I won’t ask twice.” Heo Jae says, hands tucked inside his pockets. They’re standing outside of the Namsan Hotel. The valet is taking an awfully long time to bring their cars. Not that Heo Jae minds. “I rarely even ask once.”

Yihyun looks at him out of the corner of his eye. 

Their dark overcoats are silhouetted against the bright, golden light spilling through the glass of the hotel lobby windows. Their breath crystallizes in the chilly night air. 

“Is that your way of saying you won’t wait for me?” Yihyun asks, politeness and humor spilling from his tone all at once. Heo Jae glances at him. The smile on his face is lit on one side by the distant light of the crystal chandeliers glowing in the lobby.

“I won’t.” Heo Jae says, scoffing, because he needs to maintain a sliver of his pride at least. “I don’t make a habit of chasing things that are out of my reach.”

Yihyun holds back a laugh.

“How should I convince you,” he says, “that I’m thinking very, very hard about this?”

He takes a step closer. Heo Jae's attention is suddenly fixed on him, and the distance between them. Yihyun’s quiet presence is reserved and bold at the same time. His steps are small, and when his hand comes up to catch Heo Jae’s elbow, Heo Jae turns just slightly to face him, not moving away.

“I suppose I could be persuaded,” Heo Jae mutters, and Yihyun leans forward just as the valet pulls up to the curb.

\--

_Transformational Editorial: a Korea Tribune periodical  
By: Chae Yihyun, Transformational Economics of Korea_

_The topic of developing industries in Korea, by nature, is a controversial one. Many agree that investments should be encouraged – this is a basic economic tenant, that growth begets growth – but others are, justifiably, worried about the lengths the government will go to in order to promote corporate involvement. Does a company have an obligation to the people? Is the government incentivized to provide the best working environment for the conglomerate, instead of working in the best interests of the citizens?_

_It is widely accepted, except by the most fringe of the free-market idealists, that some level of government intervention is necessary in a non-ideal world..._

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: we hit double digit fic in the money game & heochae tags T-T kayo san and ladyxenax couldnt have done it without you
> 
> i have been sitting on this for like two WEEKS bc i wasnt sure how to end it.. i just feel like its not right .. gghhhghgskdjf
> 
> already dreaming abt fashion mag au where heo jae is an infamous editorial stylist and yihyun is a cover model .. bc of mamamoo’s hip .. im so far off the rails ..


End file.
